


Memory

by DisasterStraight



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amnesia, Angst, Arguing, Arguments, Drunkenness, F/M, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Married Couple, Memory Loss, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Seperation, Suicidal Thoughts, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-09-28 21:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17190854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterStraight/pseuds/DisasterStraight
Summary: You and Shane are married and in love with a beautiful son. So why are things getting worse again? You can't save Shane, you know that, but maybe you can still save yourself and your baby.





	1. Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I've got a thing with alcoholic dudes being terrible husbands. I'm not proud of it, but here we are

It was never supposed to end this way. You and Shane were supposed to be together until death do you part, that was the promise. In sickness and in health. But what are you supposed to do when the man you love chooses to stay sick?

The drinking problems when you first met were one thing. They were horrible, they were destroying him, but they weren’t destroying you. Neither of you had promised anything. You were strangers back then, and as much as you wanted to help him, it wasn’t love. Kindness and caring, sure, but not love. Not yet.

That came after. The love only really started when he started to get better. When the drinking stopped and the therapy started. When he was sweet and sober and swigging sparkling water. Every time you saw the can in his hand you could smile, safe knowing that he was recovering.

A beer every now and then was okay. You didn’t like it, but as long as you were with him he seemed to be able to control himself. You were so proud of him when his markers started coming in: one week sober, two months sober, one season sober. Staring at them as he held them out to you, a beaming smile on his face, was when you decided to marry him. He’d faced so much sadness and he was pushing through. He was doing so well.

The wedding was wonderful. Waking up with him was even better, and most days were good. For a while. 

Is started with him having a few beers when you weren’t home. He would go to the Saloon or just drink it alone at home. That would be fine normally. He’s a grown man, he can make his own choices. The problem was that you found out because of the cans in the trash and word of mouth from Pam. Shane wouldn’t talk to you about it.

He was rarely drunk when you were home. Somehow that made it worse. When he was drunk around you, he was sloppy and depressed. Never anywhere near violent, but he wasn’t happy, and you couldn’t be happy knowing the state he was in. Maybe he knew that. Maybe that’s why he only drank when you were out working.

Before you could process what it meant, let alone say anything to Shane, you found out that you were going to have a baby. He asked you as you laid down beside him in bed one night. You were so overjoyed by the idea that you agreed quickly, and the baby came soon after.

He was so excited for the baby to come. Even more excited than you were. “I never thought in a million years that I would be a father,” he said. “But with you, I guess anything’s possible.”

He’d said that on a Friday afternoon before he left for the Saloon. He didn’t come home until eleven.

You asked him about it and he laughed it off. You confronted him about it and he ignored you. You pleaded with him and he snapped at you to mind your own business. You felt that you were losing your husband to himself. He was sinking father and farther down a hole you couldn’t pull him out of, and you were terrified. 

You named your son Reid at Shane’s request. You’d hoped that having the baby would help. You’d hoped it would how him what his life was worth, that he was needed and loved and that could never change. It seemed to help for a month or two, and then the beer cans started showing up again.

The final sign came in early summer. You left for the day to take care of things in town and mine ores. When you came back that night the baby was crying, hungry. Shane was passed out in bed.

He was breathing heavily and lying on his side, stinking of beer. He was so out of it that he wouldn’t wake up except to slur, “Just a few more before bed.” 

The sight of him weighed heavy on you, and the thought that had been floating in the back of your mind was pushed violently to the front. The thought that as much as you loved Shane, he couldn’t be saved. Not by you, anyway. Not while you had a life besides your own to protect. 

You fed and comforted Reid until he fell asleep. You kissed him on the forehead and whispered, “Your dad loves us. I believe that.”

Then you tossed Shane over your shoulder and carried him the distance to Marnie’s house, silently creeping in and laying him down in his disused bed. 

You took a moment to look at your husband one last time. If you ignored the stench of booze and the heavy lump of sap building your stomach, he was just the not-so-beautiful man that you married. The sad man who felt real in a world of smiles. You were still so in love with him that it filled your chest with stone, but you had to think of more than yourself now.

Pressing a final kiss to his cheek, you left Shane snoring on the bed and headed to the mountains.

When you first discovered the shrines in the witch’s hut you’d ignored them. Their eerie inscriptions and foreboding eyes had sent shivers down your spine, and vowed to never come back. You had no need for witchcraft. Anything that it could offer was not something that you wanted. But things had changed.

Carved into the dark stone base in the center-most altar was the word ‘Memory.’ Nothing else was written, but the meaning was painfully understood.

You laid your offering of gold at the statue’s feet. As soon as the coins hit the rock a cool breeze blew through the hut, despite the sealed windows. The winds turned your blood cold and the realization of what you’d done pushed you to your knees. You were nearly sick. What had you done?

But you had no time to weep and wail. The sun would rise soon, and your baby needed you.


	2. Do I Know You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its real short, lads, but it do be like that

The ride home felt like a blink. You were numb, dulled by the implications of what you’d done. Would Shane really forget you? Forget your life together? You home? Your son?

Dumbly, you checked on Reid, making sure that it was still fed and changed, before sinking onto the bed and being pulled into a restless sleep. 

The morning sun felt like an insult to the cold half of your bed. The baby was crying. It felt strange to be relieved by the intrusive noise, but it was a needed distraction from your situation. You knew that eventually you would have to face the consequences of what you’d done, but for now you let yourself get lost in taking care of your baby.

You operated that way for days, forever anxious that Shane would wander back and demand to know what happened, why you’d done this to your family. You did your best to focus on taking care of yourself and your farm and your baby and not think about your husband. You were afraid for him, of course, but mostly you missed him. You missed seeing him with the chickens, and microwaving pizza, and finding new ways to make you smile. 

You didn’t leave your land at all until a days later when you needed to replenish your stock of seeds after a harvest.

Reid would okay being home alone for an hour or two, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was working up the courage to risk seeing Shane. You didn’t know where he would be now that the two of you weren’t together and the Joja Mart was closed. The saloon? Marnie’s? So much had changed in the years that you’d been married, who would Shane even be now?

You almost made it all the way to Pierre’s and back without seeing him, but you passed him on the way out. 

Seeing him there, awake and alert, made your heart fly up to your throat. You forgot how to breathe. Your mind went blank as you struggled to find something to say. What do you say to someone that you love when you’ve ruined them?

“Hey,” you said, hoping that he would ignore the tremor in your voice. 

He frowned. “What do you want?”

Before you could find a response, he rolled his eyes, grumbled “Don’t talk to me,” and pushed past.

Shane hadn’t been that cold to you in years. Not since you’d moved into the Valley. Is that how it was going to be again? You could hardly remember the days when Shane was that rude to you. 

But this is good, right? This is what you wanted. You’re safe. Your baby is safe. With luck, not having the stress of a family would help Shane. You had to believe that you did the right thing by him. You did the right thing. 

Right?

 

Shane woke up and felt wrong. Hungover, sure. That was nothing new. The splitting headache, the burning eyes, they were all but part of his normal morning routine. And he was used to having fuzzy memories, but this was different. 

Usually when he lost parts of the night before, it was like the memories were being covered and clouded with alcohol. Sometimes entire days were shaded over, but he always kept the sense that they were still hiding somewhere under a sheet in his mind. That they were only buried within him.

This was different. As he tried to remember what happened last night, he came up with nothing. Not a single faded image, not one blurred face or sensation. There was nothing. Pieces were missing. 

As he went farther back it felt like he was learning about a past that he should have known already. He remembered working on Marnie’s farm since Joja Mart had closed, and going to the Saloon every night at three. He knew that he had done those things almost every day, but as he tried to pry for details he found nothing. Only a wide white wall spread out before him.

It was the strangest feeling, and it made the place just behind his eyes erupt with pain. He set the weirdness aside for his own sanity, and as days passed the routine began to feel more and more familiar. Within a week he forgot all about the missing piece.

He didn’t give the feeling a second thought until a week later when he saw the farmer from up the road in Pierre’s. They weren’t anyone he interacted with often, only a nod while coming and going. But when he saw them he got that feeling again, like something had been ripped away from him. Something that he desperately wanted to have but couldn’t. 

“Hey,” they said. He could hardly hear them over the static in his head. 

“What do you want?” he snapped on pure impulse. They looked surprised, but that didn’t make sense, did it? Shane didn’t talk to them, and it’s not like he was a friendly person even with those closest to him. What did they expect?

“Don’t talk to me,” he said, hoping the finality in his voice would wipe away that feeling. It didn’t, but as the farmer left Pierre’s and got farther away he started to feel normal again. A part of him hoped that he would never see them again. Another part of him wished that they hadn’t left him there alone.

Huh. There was that feeling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, please don't actually leave your kids unsupervised for extended periods. You will be more of a danger to that kid's health than your alcoholic amnesiac husband ever was if you do that shit


	3. A Good Neighbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, they're getting shorter. it's cool though, there's plenty of content coming up

After the meeting in Pierre’s you were resolved to go back to your normal life. You couldn’t stay in Pelican Town if all you were going to do was mope around your farm and avoid your friends. That isn’t why you came here. These people loved you, and you loved them. It wasn’t right to cut yourself off, and it was making you miserable. 

You went back to going into town daily. Sometimes you saw Shane, usually you didn’t. When you did he would just ignore you, passing you by as if he never saw you. You gave a lot of thought to how you should interact with him now. Eventually you decided that treating him the same way you do everyone else would be the best approach.

Well, not exactly the same. You didn’t stop to talk to him. You didn’t ask how he was doing; you were too afraid of the answer. But a smile, a nod, a wave. Just a friendly local farmer, you repeated to yourself as you passed him. Greeting their neighbor.

It was a strange feeling, knowing and loving someone so deeply and having them look at you with disdain and confusion. 

It was even stranger when you went back home to your baby and, looking down at him, couldn’t help but picture Shane beside you. It felt like a picture with a piece cut out. It was recognizable, but not obviously incomplete.

But it was working. Unfortunately, Shane was still self-destructing by all accounts, but your baby was safe. Every night you went into the Saloon he was there, drinking alone in the corner. You watching for a month and a half as he eroded under his own illness, barely speaking a word to him. It hurt. It was surreal. But it was working, you and your baby were thriving. 

Then spring came, and before you knew it, so had Shane’s birthday. You’d seen it coming for weeks, unsure of what to do. You knew exactly what he wanted. You had everything you needed to make it. You weren’t sure if you could even bring yourself to give it to him, but you made it anyway, and you brought it with you to the Saloon that night. 

There he was, standing in the corner of the room, eyes cast down. He didn’t even notice when you came in. You could avoid this entirely. It wouldn’t matter to him if one stranger in a town of aliens didn’t give him a gift. He wouldn’t ever know what was lost.

But you would know. Ever since you’d met Shane, even when he didn’t like you, you remembered his birthday and gave him a gift. The first year, you gave him a soda and he hated it. By the second year you knew exactly what he wanted, and by now you’d perfected it.

The sound of your approaching steps alerted him and he turned up his eyes, glaring at you incredulously. You steeled yourself and held out the plate.

“Happy birthday,” you said, not excited, not mean. Pleasant. A neighborly gift. 

Shane’s eyes widened as he realized what you’d given him. 

“How did--?” he started. “Who--? Where did you get this?”

“Well, I grew the peppers, then I got milk from the cows and made the cheese, then I--”

“You made all of this?”

His mouth was hanging open. All of the questioning was making you nervous, flooding your cheeks with heat. 

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, though. Picking peppers and making cheese is kind of my business.”

“Sure,” he said, eyes turning back to the pepper poppers now resting in his hands. You hadn’t realized when you prepared it, but the plate that the food was resting on had been a wedding gift from Pierre and Caroline. 

They’d had it specially imported because of the fine pottery and the little egg painted onto the bottom of each piece in the set. They said that they were perfect for a couple whose one common denominator was chickens. Shane had loved those plates. He refused to eat off of anything else. You’d forgotten that they were anything other than the dishes in your house.

For a beat you were terrified that Shane was going to remember everything. That his eyes were going to raise up full of recognition and anger and betrayal. But they didn’t. When you met his eyes again they were smiling. An all too familiar smile, the smile from just a moment of real joy. A rarity from Shane.

“Thanks. I really like this.”

“I’m glad.” You meant it.

Suddenly you felt sick. It was like the whole situation crashed down on you and you had to rush rush to the bathroom and puke up your dinner. As you left the Saloon you avoided looking at Shane, even though you could feel him looking at you. You couldn’t shake the image of him coming up from behind and taking your hand, making sure you were okay. But this Shane didn’t know you. He didn't ask. He didn’t care.


	4. Full of Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I say 'but' so much. It's really too much. Try not to notice

The next day it rained. You felt sick again, but didn’t vomit. You hadn’t eaten anything. You felt terrible. Aching, headache, nauseous. Only when you looked at all of the symptoms next to each other did the cold lump of epiphany settle in your stomach. 

It was all the same sensations that you’d had when you had your first pregnancy. 

You were waiting outside Harvey’s door when the clinic opened. You weren’t sure what he remembered of your first pregnancy, but Harvey was not only a great doctor, he was a friend. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw you hovering outside his door. Surprise turned to concern when he took in your furrowed brow and bitten lip. 

He brought you in quickly and you explained the way you’d been feeling. He reached the same conclusion as you had.

“I have some pregnancy tests in the back, Y/N. I’ll get you one.” he said warmly. When he returned he asked, “Can I ask who the father is?”

My husband’s, of course, you thought. You caught yourself and mumbled, “No one you know.”

Harvey pursed his lips but didn’t press you any further. You wished that you could talk to someone about this. You wished that you could share your pain with your friends, practically your family at this point. You couldn’t, though. How would you explain it? You gave money to a witch’s shrine to wipe the memory of an entire town? They would never believe you, and if they did they would never forgive you.

You took the pregnancy test into the bathroom and waited with anxious certainty for the result. It felt more like a formality or a sick joke. When the results came back positive you actually laughed. It was a bitter laugh, from the back of your throat. Of course. Of course this would happen now.

Harvey was waiting for you outside, brushing his mustache nervously. He watched you with expectant eyes until you gave a small nod, and he released a breath and smiled. It fell when he took in your slumped shoulders and dark eyes. 

“Congratulations?” he cautioned, unsure. 

Everything you’d been holding back flooded forward, like a dam snapping during a hurricane. You curled your fingers in his shirt and sobbed into his chest. Big, heaving gasps. He did his best to comfort you in his awkward way, patting your back and whispering confused reassurances. The effort almost made you laugh again. 

“Do you wanna listen for planes on my radio? That always calms me down.” You kept crying and he muttered, “No, no. That’s stupid. Sorry. That’s stupid.”

You shook your head. Something about sitting in Harvey’s room and waiting for planes sounded like the only thing you wanted to do.

“Let’s do that,” you sniffled. 

He led you upstairs to his room and the two of you listened to static as Harvey tuned his radio and called for passing planes. There weren’t any that day, but it was okay. A part of you both knew that you weren’t really looking for planes.

You stayed with Harvey that day, trusting Reid to Penny. You stayed behind the counter or in the waiting room, talking to Maru on her shift and with whoever came in for a checkup. They asked how you were doing, mentioned that you’d been spending a lot of time working on your farm and that you should take a break. You were almost sad to go home when the clinic closed. 

It was still early when you left, the sun was barely setting. You picked Reid up and talked to Penny and Pam, then headed home and put him to bed. Before you knew it, it was dark. You tried to get some rest, but you had no interest in sleeping. 

Looking to clear your mind, you started your way down to the lake by Marnie’s farm. It was a good fishing spot and an even better place to think. 

As you got closer to the lake you could see a lantern and beside the lantern, a man sitting on the edge of the pier. An uncomfortable sense of deja vu settled over you. You almost turned around and left, but didn’t. 

The sound of your boots on the pier alerted Shane to your presence. He turned and gave you a glance, then returned his gaze to the water. He had a beer in his hand and another pack sitting by the lantern, just like he did that first year you lived in Perlican Town. 

“Up late, huh?” he asked as you sat down beside him. You nodded. “Here,” He held a can out to you. “Have a cold one.”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He took a swig off his own drink and examined the water. It was like he was searching for something in the dark, some shape in the water that never came close enough to understand. 

There was a long pause and you started to wonder if you should have kept walking. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Buh...life.” You watched him. The lantern cast a warm glow on his face, illuminating all the creases by his eyes and the tight line of his jaw. He looked sad.

“You ever feel like,” he struggled for the words. “No matter what you do, you’re gonna fail? Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and no matter and you’re so deep you can’t see the light of day?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. Now it was your turn to watch the water while Shane watched you. You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the jump in your chest when his eyes landed on you. You opened them again when you felt his eyes leave you. He took another drink.

“I just feel like no matter how hard I try, I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.”

“I wish I could drink,” you grumbled. Shane laughed dryly. 

“Woman after my own heart.” His voice rang around in your head, repeating and knocking against the shadow of the last time he said those words. “It’s not a good habit to have. Besides, you got people who need you.”

“So do you.” You couldn’t help it. You thought of Jaz, and Marnie, and Reid at home, and your baby on the way, and of yourself. You thought of how much you missed him. You thought about your empty bed. You thought about how this was the first real conversation you’d had with him in months. You thought about how it would have to be the last one. 

He was surprised for a moment, then he glared at the beer in his hands, as if it had forced itself there. He didn’t answer you. The silence was heavy until he finally caved and drained the beer.

“Right. Welp, my liver’s begging me to stop. Better call it a night. See ya around, Y/N.”

He gathered his cans and left you on the pier. Near the end of the boardwalk Shane stopped and turned back around. You turned away from the water and locked eyes with him in the dark. His eyes were blots of black ink under the light of the lamp, and you wondered how he found yours in the darkness.

“Hey, Y/N? Do you ever get deja vu?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut, but you couldn’t show it. Slowly you swallowed and shook your head. “Not really, no.”

He looked almost disappointed, then shook himself. “Right. Have a good one. Get home safe.”

“You too.”


	5. Keep Yourself Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild suicide warning and super soft gore warning. The gore is basically just acknowledging that blood does, in fact, exist. If you played the game the suicide part is nothing new, but it feels worth mentioning just in case

After the incident at the pier it was like nothing happened. You went out of your way to avoid Shane while you tried to figure out what you were going to do about your new baby. You wouldn’t show for at least another month, you had time to sort this. 

Last time, Shane had practically jumped out of his skin with excitement and run around telling everyone he could. By the end of the day, everyone knew. That was last time. This time you would have to figure it out alone.

You waited a few more weeks and then, on a Friday night in early summer, you announced the news to everyone all at once at the Saloon. You were swept up in the explosion of cheers and congratulations from all of your friends. Jodie and Robin started reminiscing about their kids when they were young, Gus brought you a mug of soda on the house. Even Kent gave you a kurt smile and nod of approval. You almost forgot the screwed up situation that had landed you here. You hadn’t felt so much love in months. You’d forgotten just how good it felt to be with your friends.

In the midst of the celebrating, you cast a glance towards Shane. He was frowning intently at his beer, searching for that same something he had been at the lake. As if he felt your gaze, Shane looked up and your eyes met. His expression darkened to something like anger and your heart froze. He’d never looked at you that way, before or after you were together. You couldn’t even read him properly through your shock. Before you had a chance to breathe, he’d chugged the rest of his beer and left the door of the Saloon swinging behind him. 

You almost followed him outside, but Emily started telling you about all of the cute baby clothes she would get to make, demanding the measurements for Reid and promising to get working on something right away. You thanked her silently for holding you there. You didn’t have any right to go after Shane, not after you’d given up so much to push him away.

The night was spent surrounded by your friends, laughing and joking and accepting invitations to bring yourself and Reid to dinner anytime you wanted. For the first time since Shane had gone, you went to sleep happy.

You had a nightmare that night. You were down by the cliffs in the rain. Not you, exactly, you weren’t there. You were watching. Flying down and scoping the scene like a butterfly escaping the storm. 

You saw Shane there, face down in the dirt, coughing. He didn’t even have the will to wipe the mud off his lips. He could barely open his eyes, and you knew that the world looked so ugly to him. Almost as ugly as he thought he was. He hated seeing it. He hated that it was ugly because of him. He had no one else to blame.

You watched, helpless, as Shane rolled over onto his back and closer to the cliff’s edge. His shoulder pushed against the muddy rock, knocking it into the ravine below. He was too close.

He knew exactly how close he was. You followed as his eye lazily admired the view. It was rainy, not much to see, but from where he was he could see the far end of the ravine. The sensation of his arm hanging over the edge was the only thing that felt good. It was a long way down to the bottom. Long enough? he seemed to think. 

Through the rain you could’ve sworn that he was crying. Then, like it was happening in slow motion, Shane propped up the arm that was hanging off the edge. He shifted his weight just a fraction, and tumbled off the cliff.

You woke up just as Shane slammed onto the rocks below, pulled out of the dream the second before blood was spilled. The baby was crying.

Reid was getting so big. He crawled around his crib and all over the house when you let him. He’d even said his first words the other day. Mama. Now he couldn’t stop. You smiled every time he said the word, so he kept saying it.

“He’s going to be a good kid,” Mayor Louis had assured you. 

He had his father’s eyes and your hair. It stung to see Shane’s eyes everyday, knowing that he never would. When Reid had said his first words you were ecstatic, and then immediately felt guilty for keeping Shane away from him. It would make him so happy. He deserved to be here to see this.

_Deserve has nothing to do with it,_ you reminded yourself. _This is about keeping your family safe._

But you couldn’t help picturing it. You saw him waiting for you when you got home from the mines. You saw him playing with your son. You saw him waking up early every once in a while to take care of chores on the farm. You saw him in bed late at night, mumbling “I love you” as he fell asleep. 

Eventually you had to open your eyes and see that he wasn’t there. 

And that dream about the cliff kept coming back.

You were thinking about it as you walked to Marnie’s. Like a fool, you’d forgotten to plant new patches of grass for the animals and had to buy some from Marnie. It wasn’t all bad, you had the money and it was always nice to see Marnie. Awkward, at times, when she would talk about Shane and you had to pretend you didn’t know anything about him.

Marnie was supposed to be at front desk when you got there, but she was curiously absent. You saw Jaz in the kitchen, picking at a sandwich, and were again hit by the same deja vu you’d had at the lake. You knew what was coming. 

“Hey, Jas,” you said, getting a cup and filling it with water. You’d stopped carrying your water pail when the sprinklers were installed, and you suspected you would need the water. You hoped they wouldn’t think it was too strange that you knew where everything was.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jas answered, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to think much of you.

“Is Y/N out there?” Marnie called from Shane’s room. 

“Yeah!” Jas called back. 

“Y/N, would you please come in? I could use a hand.”

With a quiet sigh you entered the room. It was just as you remembered, a filthy bachelor cave with an unconscious Shane passed out on the floor, limbs splayed, surrounded by a halo beer cans. 

“Can you do something?” Marnie asked quietly, not wanting Jas to hear. “He’s out cold.”

Without daring to think about the consequence, you stepped forward and dumped the entire glass of water on Shane’s head. He leapt up with a cry and breathed heavily.

“You?” he mumbled when he met your eyes. You didn’t have a second to reply. Marnie beat you to it.

“Shane? What’s the matter with you? All you do anymore is mope around your room and drink beer!”

He grimaced and turned away from you. He didn’t speak for a beat or two, deciding whether or not to say anything. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” he finally grumbled. It was playing out just like it had those years ago. The sticky thick sweat of a hangover seeped out of him in waves. The smell sent you right back to your dream about the cliff and tied your guts into knots.

“I’m worried about you,” Marnie said softly. You nodded, although he couldn’t see you. “What’s your plan? Don’t you ever think about the future?”

“A plan? My future?” he laughed bitterly. “I don’t have a future. Hopefully I won’t be around long enough to need a plan.”

You’d forgotten that Jas was right outside the door. She must’ve snuck in while Shane was talking, because she suddenly started crying and ran out of the room.

“Oh no, Jas, sweetie,” Marnie called after her, following her out of the room. Without much warning, you and Shane were left alone in the same room for the first time since the lake. 

“Jas, I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself. His face had gone from one of self-pity to self-hatred. You could practically hear the thoughts in his head. He’d told you one night what they were like. 

_Good going, asshole. You messed another good thing up just like you always do. She’d be better off if you weren’t here. You only stick around her because you’re selfish. You’re the worst kind of person._

He slumped to his knees, head in hands. He was shaking and his breathing was uneven and harsh. The last time this had happened you’d sat down next to him and said kind things until he calmed down. But that can’t have worked, he still ended up on the edge of that cliff. If you hadn’t been there...

You were so afraid that he would hurt himself. What if you weren’t there this time, like in the dream, and he slipped off that cliff and you never got to see him again? What if he died thinking that no one loved him? Thinking that he hadn’t made a mark on this world?

You were a different person now than you had been then. You knew him better, and you were more scared than ever before. You needed him to hear you. 

“Shane,” you said in a low voice, crouching down beside him. He didn’t respond. “Shane, look at me.” Nothing. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts, too caught up in his own head to hear you.

Frustrated and terrified, you used two of your fingers to turn his cheek towards you. He was too surprised to resist. Finally his wide eyes were on you. He was listening.

“Shane, you need to get it together. I know what you’re thinking right now, and I can tell you that it isn’t true. But it will be if you keep this up. If you keep slouching around, drinking and feeling sorry for yourself, you will become what you already think you are.”

He was looking you over, as if there was something new to you that he’d never seen before. You supposed this was probably a side of you that Shane--old or new--had never quite seen. A harder, more desperate farmer than he’d met that first spring. Kind, still. Loving and considerate, but tired. Shane couldn’t tell what, but he had the feeling that something had happened to you. Something his mind wouldn’t let him understand. 

Your eyes softened a fraction as you spoke the next words. 

“You have so many people who love you, Shane, and you don’t even know it. Not really. Jas and Marnie love you. The people in this town love you. It’s about time for you to wise up and start loving you, too.”

Shane couldn’t speak. Who was this farmer, really? Why were they talking like this, like they knew him? Why did he believe they did?

“Take care of yourself,” you said, standing and leaving Shane alone in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream sequences are one of my favorite things to write


	6. Your Heart Is A Muscle

Harvey assured you that the pregnancy was going along normally. That the baby was healthy and likely to be born in a few months, just in time for the fall harvest. It was still summer, though, and you were working hard to focus on the farm work and not on whatever the future might have in store.

You didn’t see Shane very often, though you didn’t shy away from talking to him when you did. You were still nervous that he wouldn’t clean up and that he would get himself in trouble, so you checked in on him. Sometimes that just meant asking after him with Marnie, sometimes it meant asking him personally. You simply acted like it wasn’t a big deal and soon it became normal, a part of your routine to talk to him. 

Usually it wasn’t more than a few words in passing, but one afternoon you’d found him out by Marnie’s chickens and he’d called out to you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he’d said as you passed. He was holding a chicken in his arms. You hadn’t needed to return Shane’s things to him. Once you got home after the spell it was all gone, presumably returned to him, including a very familiar bird.

“Hi, Shane. Hi, Charlie.”

You tried to keep on your way. Your bag was full of rocks and gems, and the longer you carried your pick, the heavier it got. But Shane caught you.

“Wait, how did you know his name?”

You stopped dead. You remembered why talking to Shane so much was a bad idea. Little things slip through the cracks when you get relaxed. You fumbled for an excuse.

“Marnie told me that you only had one friend, and that’s Charlie. I guess I assumed.”

It was a little disconcerting how good at lying you’d gotten.

“Ha. That makes sense.” You held back your relieved sigh. Shane was examining your bag. It was so full that it barely zipped closed. “Where are you coming from?”

“The mines.”

“Like, you were mining?”

“That’s generally what you do in mines,” you chuckled.

“But aren’t you, you know, um,” he was really struggling to say what he was thinking.

“Pregnant?” you finished for him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, blushing. You shrugged.

“It’s just me on the farm. The work doesn’t stop.”

“Right. I guess you were like that with you last kid, too, huh?” You breath caught. He looked like he was trying to remember something. “I remember you came by here all the time, and past the Joja Mart, going back and forth from places.”

“Yeah. I should really get going. These rocks aren’t going to haul themselves!” you said with a dry laugh. You were worried that if you stayed any longer he would remember more. 

“Do you want help?” he asked, setting Charlie down. You were seized with panic.

“No!” You took a breath. “I mean, no thanks. I’m stronger than I look, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but you gotta remember, Y/N, you’re pregnant.”

You quietly sucked air through you teeth. You were getting very tired. It couldn’t hurt to get a hand just this once, could it?

“Sure. Here, take this,” you said as he hopped clumsily over the fence. You held out the pick axe to him, and he raised an eyebrow.

“That’s all?” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take your bag, or--?”

“Trust me, Shane, you couldn’t carry my bag.”

Shane pursed his lips and puffed up his chest. 

“Sure I could!”

“No you can’t,” you said with a little laugh. 

“Yeah, I could. I think if a five months pregnant lady can do it, I can manage.”

“Be my guest, then,” you said with a smirk. You slid your bag off and held it out, taking the axe back. Shane took hold of the bag and it immediately dropped to the ground. You couldn’t help laughing at him.

“Hey!” he said, hiding his smile and pretending to be indignant. “I might not be as strong as I used to be, but this is nothing! I just gotta...”

He took about a minute situating the bag so that it was on his back and righting himself so that he wasn’t going to topple backward under the weight. You set off like that, chatting on the way back home. 

“So, do you like living on a farm?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“That’s gotta be a lot of work, though. Doing it all on your own.”

You swallowed. “Sometimes it is. But I’m not really alone, I have Reid and the animals. They might not be much help in the field, but they’re good company.”

“Reid?” Shane asked. 

“My son,” you said with a tight smile, avoiding Shane’s eyes. 

“That’s my grandpa’s name,” Shane said thoughtfully. 

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” you lied.

When you reached the house you could hear the sound of Reid’s cries from inside. You were careful to only be gone a couple hours, but he must have gotten hungry or soiled a diaper.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said to Shane. “I have to get him. Would you mind putting the bag in the shed?”

“Sure,” Shane said. He seemed distracted by something. He kept looking at the farm and the house and all of your tools like they’d started dancing around before his eyes. 

You ran into the house and left Shane there. You didn’t want to ask what was wrong in case he decided to tell you. 

Reid just needed a fresh diaper, so you quickly changed it and comforted him. You whispered little lullabies into his ears and bounced him in your arms until he was calmed down. You didn’t even notice Shane come in until he spoke. 

“Is that him?” he asked, nodding at Reid. 

You hummed in the affirmative, hesitant to let Shane any closer. He was never meant to be in here again, to be anywhere near you or your again. The last time he’d been here, Shane had been so drunk he would hardly noticed if Reid were burning the house down. Without meaning to, you found yourself holding Reid a little tighter to you.

“Cute kid,” Shane remarked. His mind was reaching out for something, some vital piece of information that was just beyond his fingertips. 

“Thanks.”

Reid turned, nervous around the new person. His eyes lit up when they saw Shane and he cheered, “Dada!”

You nearly had a heart attack. You thought for sure that Reid had been too young to remember his father’s face, let alone what to call him. 

Shane looked about as surprised as you did. Thankfully he didn’t look like he’d solved anything, even as he stared into his own eyes in your son’s face. 

“He’s at that age,” you explained quickly. “He thinks all men he sees are dads, like on TV. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Shane said absently.

“Reid, this is Shane.” You waved his chubby baby hand and Reid smiled. 

“Hey, kid,” said Shane, smiling.

You put Reid back into his crib and led Shane out. Every second he spent with Reid you got more anxious that he would remember, and the more anxious you got the more you wondered if you had made the right choice.

“Where’s the kid’s dad, if you don’t mind me asking?” Shane said when you were back outside.

It was a common question since the spell. Usually you kept it as vague as you could. “You don’t know him,” or “Just some guy I used to know.” Never a name or a story to go with it. People didn’t tend to press you after that.

“Not around,” was what you decided to say this time. Shane frowned. 

“What kind of man would run out when he’s got a kid?” he grumbled. 

“It’s not like that. He didn’t run out, exactly, it’s just...It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah. Well, he...” It was your turn to struggle with words. You knew you shouldn’t be saying any of this, you should tell him that it was none of his business and drop the subject, but you felt like you had to explain it to him. Like he had to know.

“He didn’t run out, and he was never bad to us, but he wasn’t healthy. He would get better and then worse and then worse again. It wasn’t safe for Reid to be around that. So, he had to leave.”

“If he left, then what happened with, uh,” he gestured vaguely at your stomach. You laughed bitterly. You missed him, missed this, so much that you felt like crying.

“I love him. I’m still really really in love with him.”

“Oh,” was all he said. He sounded almost disappointed.

“You should probably get going.”

“Yeah.”

That had been the end of the interaction. After that you didn’t share more than a few words at a time, same as before. It had been so nice to talk to him that way, though. Too nice. It was for the best, you told yourself, that it never happen again.


	7. A Dream Come True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: I'm about to head back to school, so expect a slower if not completely halted update schedule.

You couldn’t help yourself worrying for Shane. Even after what you’d said at Marnie’s, you saw him drinking and moping around at the Saloon almost every night. He clearly hadn’t changed anything, and if what had already happened proved true, Shane would end up on that cliff.

You kept being plagued by nightmares every time it rained. It was so terrifying that you started walking around the woods by Marnie’s each night it rained to soothe your fears. You would look over the cliff with baited breath, praying that there would be nothing to see. It was unbearable, watching him fall over and over. 

Night after night you walked the woods and the cliffs, grateful to be afraid in vain each time. Until you weren’t.

The rain was coming down in sheets. You had only the light of your ring to guide you through the dark torrent. Really, you shouldn’t be out here. It was cold and wet. You could slip and hurt yourself, but you were going insane with worry, like you did every night it rained. 

Your heart leapt to your throat when you saw Shane’s figure on the hill. You broke into a run. Flashes of Shane tumbling over the cliff and crashing onto the rocks below gave extra lift to your feet, pushing you to go faster despite your swollen belly.

“Shane!” you cried. You couldn’t help it. You were desperate. He barely stirred. When you reached him, it was just like it had been in the dreams. He was farther from the edge, but everything else was the same. The beer cans were tossed all around him. He was soaked to the bone, his senses too numbed to even shiver from the cold.

“Y/N,” he mumbled. You dropped to your knees and tried to pull his head out of the mud. He seemed so much heavier when he was drunk. It looked like he’d thrown up not far from where he lay. The bile and chunks of food and grease had mixed the dirt into a disgusting sludge. Some of it was stuck to his cheek.

“You...you came,” he murmured. You could hardly hear him over the rain.

“What do you mean?” Had he remembered? Was this deja vu for him, too?

“You come down here so much,” he slurred. “S’like you’re lookin’ for somethin’. See ya from Marnie’s all the time. Just...lookin’.”

You didn’t know how to respond. How could you respond? It’s not like you could tell him that you’d been watching out for him. That you’d been waiting for this moment, hoping it would never come.

“My head hurts all the time,” he continued. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. “There’s something wrong with me. There’s gotta be something wrong with me. With my head.”

His words reminded you of a night before you’d erased your life together. It had been a rainy night like this, just before your son had been born.

You’d come in from the fields later than usual, and Shane wasn’t home. You’d waited for hours, late into the dark, and he still hadn’t come home. You’d gotten so worried for him that you got your boots back on to look for him, only to find him passed out on the porch, slouched against the bench.

You’d dragged him inside, unable to wake him. He was in and out of consciousness, a lot like he was now. When he was with you for just a moment, you asked him why. Why was he doing this to himself when he had everything? When he had a family who loved him? When you were doing everything you could to make him happy?

“I don’t know, honey,” he told you. There’d been tears in his eyes. “I’m ashamed to be alive. I just feel so useless and empty and stupid all the time. I don’t even know why. There’s something wrong with me. I’m sorry.”

Back on the cliff, you looked down at your husband. The man you loved and who didn’t even remember you. You were relieved that you’d made it here in time, made it before Shane did something terrible, but you’d never really thought of what you would do if you made it to this point. If things kept going this way, you would end up just where you started.

“My life is a mess,” he said. “I’m just this useless pathetic lump of a person. Everyone would be better off if I were gone.”

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t true. You believed that it wasn’t, with all of your heart, yet what had you done to him? You pushed him out of your life because he was too much to handle. You told him that he was a burden and you’d been too cowardly to say it to his face.

“This cliff...This is my chance to take control of my life. To finally do right by Marnie and Jas and you.”

You flinched, and then you got angry. Shane was a mess, and yes, he _was_ a burden. But not a burden in a way that was outside of his control. He was a burden by his own choice, and he had the audacity to say that he was doing it for anyone but himself. You’d been a new parent and you needed your husband to be reliable and to help you, and he hadn’t done that. 

You’d known what you were getting into when you married Shane. You didn’t expect the road to be smooth, but you expected him to walk it with you, and he didn’t. He’d stopped trying, and you didn’t have that privilege. You didn’t get to stop. The baby needed feeding and the hay needed baling and the crops needed watering. Shane left you to do that by yourself. You’d been the one who decided to end things, but he’d been the one who decided to stay sick. 

“Shane,” you said, an edge to your voice. He opened his groggily and made shaky eye contact. “The last time I saw you like this, we were in a very different situation.”

“Wha--?”

“Things were different then. I gave you a choice--you could stay or you could go. It was up to you.” You cupped his cheek. The surprise barely registered on his face.

“You no longer have that choice. If you want to come back here in the morning, we can work that out, but right now I’m taking you to Harvey. So get up.”

Shane was too stunned to resist and let you help him to his feet. He was so exhausted that he nearly dropped, but you held him up. He absently wondered how you kept going even with your pregnancy, and instantly felt guilty for making you deal with him.

“Leave me back there,” he muttered, weakly trying to separate himself from you.

“No,” you said.

“I’m just a burden. I don’t deserve your help.”

“I’ll decide who deserves my help. Now close your mouth and focus on walking straight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's weird? When I first started posting these fics, I'd already written most of the content. Now that I'm making new stuff on the fly and it's all ongoing and people expect a certain level of quality and storytelling from me, I'm getting all paranoid that it's not going to be up to par. Like, I feel like I should be setting up more complex themes and concepts, and then I remember that the people who are reading this are just like me: you just wanna read some edgy shit about you and a character you like, and I should really just chill the fuck out and deliver for the both of us. And maybe cut back on the run on sentences.


	8. I'm Going Home

Every once in a while on the way to Harvey’s office, Shane would start up again. He would moan about how his life was just a joke and how you were wasting your time and energy on him. It was frustratingly familiar. More than once, towards the end, you’d had to pick Shane up from the Saloon or find him wherever he passed out. You’d always done your best to be patient with him. You understood that it was an illness. But you had limits.

You remembered one morning where he’d come home too late. You’d fallen asleep waiting for him. You were so relieved to wake up next to him that you forgot to be angry. 

When he woke up, he found you in the kitchen. It was an uncommon occurrence. Usually by the time Shane woke up you were already out in the field or running errands in town. That morning you were fully dressed, boots and all, anxiously sipping dark coffee at the counter. 

“Y/N?” Shane said, rubbing the crust from his eyes. He’d gone to sleep fully clothed and he looked awful, pale and blood-shot. He still stank of beer.

“Shane, can we talk?”

He raised a suspicious eyebrow and sat down at the dining room table. You took a seat across from him. You knew that you needed to talk about what had been happening, but you didn’t know where to start. You picked at the chip in your mug.

“What time did you come home last night?” you asked finally, raising your eyes to watch him. Instantly his posture changed. He straightened his back and crossed his arms. Your heart sank; he was on the defensive now.

“This again? Y/N, we’ve talked about this.”

“No, we haven’t. You keep avoiding it.”

“That because it’s not a big deal. It’s under control.”

“Shane, I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be.”

You’d pursed your lips. Things were getting more contentious than you’d like. 

“Why did you stop going to therapy?” you asked softly, doing your best to reel the situation back in. Shane glared at you.

“It wasn’t working.”

“I know it can be frustrating, honey. I know it takes a lot of time and a lot of work, and--”

“So you think I’m lazy, is that it?” he snapped.

“I didn’t say that. Please don’t yell, Reid is sleeping.”

“But that’s what you meant!”

“It’s not. I was only saying that I know it’s hard, but it’s important. It works, Shane, you just have to give it time.”

“Don’t tell me my business, Y/N,” he growled. As he got angrier, you worked harder to keep yourself calm, but he wasn’t making it easy.

“It’s our business, Shane. We’re married, and that means we’re in this together. I love you and I’m worried that you’re falling back into a bad habit.”

Shane didn’t say anything. He was stewing and you could see that he didn’t like what you’d said. You could only hope that he would take it to heart and hear you. He looked back up at you, taking in your chewed lips and your tight grip on the old coffee cup. His brow relaxed as the wave of self-hate bowled him over.

“I’m sorry I snapped like that, Y/N. I’m not mad at you.”

“I know. It’s okay. We’re going to work this out, Shane. I believe in you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He’d said that all the time. I don’t deserve you. At first you liked it. He would say it when you took him on a nice date or made him a special gift. He said it when Reid was born. It was sweet, you thought. As he said it more, you began to understand his real meaning.

It was literal. He didn’t think he deserved to be happy. Not really. He didn’t think he deserved your house, or your love, or your life together. Once you realized that, you started to hate hearing it.

You had to wake Harvey when you finally reached his office. He gawked at the sight of you and Shane, both sopping wet and muddy. You gawked at the sight of Harvey in his pajamas. Shane was still mumbling about how useless and pathetic he was, unaware of his surroundings.

“Bring him in,” Harvey stammered. Apparently he hadn’t expected to be woken up at midnight by a pregnant person and their dangerously drunk friend.

You waited anxiously in the waiting room while Shane’s stomach was pumped and Harvey set him up to an IV of fluids to hydrate him. You sat almost perfectly still for the couple of hours it took, looking down at your distended stomach and thinking.

The baby would come in a little more than a month, and they wouldn’t have a father. Neither would Reid. In spite of all your efforts, Shane was still just as damaged as he was when you’d found him. Maybe even worse. You felt just as helpless as you had the night you found Reid crying and Shane passed out in bed. The night that you went to the witch’s hut. The night that you traded Shane away for safety.

Again you had that doubt. _Did I do the right thing?_

Maybe not.

Your train of thought was broken as Harvey came out of the ICU to lead you back to Shane’s bed. 

He looked bad. Under the lights of the clinic you could see how pale he’d become, how sickly green his skin was. He was bloated with drink and had a wet yellow crust around the eyes. He was shaking in his sleep despite the stacks of blankets, and frowning like he was having a bad dream. You didn’t remember it being this bad the last time.

“He’s going to be okay,” Harvey said. “It’s good that you brought him in, Y/N.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked like he was going to die. Even though Harvey was assuring you that he would be fine, you couldn’t shake the thought. You’d left him alone and now this had happened. You were supposed to be there for him. You were in this together, that’s what you’d promised.

“Y/N?” Harvey sounded so far away. “Y/N? Why are you crying?”

You touched a hand to your cheek and pulled it away wet.

“I didn’t realize I was.”

“I know you must be worried, but please try not to overstress yourself, it’s not good for the baby. He’s going to be fine, Y/N, I can tell you that. With a little rest and plenty of liquids he should wake up by noon.”

“Can I take him home?”

“To your house?”

You’d forgotten somehow that you and Shane didn’t share that home anymore. 

“Yes. I don’t think he wants Marnie and Jas to see him like this.”

Harvey nodded with understanding. Everyone in town knew what Jas meant to Shane. They all knew that Shane wouldn’t be able to stand himself if she saw him in his current state.

“I think that may be for the best. Let me give you some medicines for when he wakes up and the number of an excellent counsellor I know in Zuzu City. Please give it to Shane when wakes up.”

“Of course,” you said. “Thank you, Harvey.”

Minutes later, you were laden with medicines for Shane. You dropped it off at your house and rode your horse back to Harvey’s just in time for the bleed of the sunrise over the hills. 

You hoisted Shane out of bed and onto the horse. He was still unconscious, which Harvey told you not to worry about unless it continued late into the day.

“He’s going to be very weak and sick, and in a lot of pain. Let him rest and he’ll recovered in no time.”

You hopped on the horse, shifting Shane so that you could hold him in place as you rode. His disused smile lines came out in the early morning light. You wished you could see them in action again. You smiled sadly and took the reins.

“Come on, Shane,” you whispered into his ear. “We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just gotta pick a direction to go and run with it and that's my current plan, fellas


	9. Thin Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP having exactly 10,000 words in this fic. i'm not sure i will ever recover the loss

Shane had the strangest dreams. 

He’d been having a lot of them lately. They’d started almost six months ago and only gotten worse and more frequent as time went on. He didn’t remember most of them, thankfully, but he always knew when he’d had them because he woke up more sad than he could ever remember being. Like he’d lost something that he needed to live.

This one was the strangest yet.

Shane was in the farmer’s house, in the upstairs bedroom. Outside the window was a fat yellow sun, shining morning light down on the perfect little baby in his arms. His son was so new and pink, Shane was terrified that he would break in his hands. 

Reid curled his wrinkled hands around the air, completely innocent and unaware of who the man holding him was, only that there was warmth and love in his grip.

How did this happen? he thought to himself. _How did I go from being a nothing with no future to holding my future in my hands? Feeling it breathe and hearing it cry? What did I do to deserve this?_

Sleepy arms curled over his shoulders, and Shane knew without a thought that it was he was in love with those arms. Endlessly in love. 

“You’re up so early,” you murmured into his back. You were so tired that you thought you’d topple over without Shane holding you up.

“It’s almost eight,” he whispered back, still in awe at his son.

“Oh, no. It is?” You didn’t have enough energy to fully emote the panic you felt.

“It’s fine, honey. I’m sure the animals can go a day without a morning pet.”

“No, there’s going to be a job posted at Pierre’s today. Someone needs my help!”

“Sweetie, you know I understand how important you are to this town, but the people of Pelican Town _will_ survive a week without you.”

“But Shane, there’s so much I have to do! I have to get fresh seeds and the wheat is--”

He softly shushed you and turned around. You quieted and smiled once you caught sight of Reid. Shane met your eyes, savoring the softness of them. 

“I think you’re right, Shane. They can manage a week without me.”

You pressed a dry kiss to his cheek and leaned on his arm, both of you looking down at your baby, thinking the same thing.

_I’m so happy._

Usually Shane’s dreams came in flashes, and he could almost never make out this much of what was happening. The faces were smudged against dark landscapes, nameless and overflowing with confusing feelings. Sometimes the dreams even turned frightening, with the people in them changing into animals or monsters. More than once Shane had been the one to have his fingernails grow into talons and his teeth sharpen into spikes as he tore into something salty and tender.

Never before had a vision come to him so clearly and left him feeling so full. He resented his eyes as they struggled to part, and tried to push his mind back into the upstairs bedroom, unsure of why the image gave him so much comfort. He wanted to be in the sunny patch of space, the two loves of his life beside him, unchanging and easy. He didn’t want to know why the memory turned bittersweet as he awakened or why you were the face of the heart-splitting joy he felt.

Not to mention he felt like shit. As soon as a scrap of light entered his eye, a stabbing pain opened the door to a pounding migraine. His mouth was full of cotton and it tasted like something was rotting behind his tongue. 

“Shane?” came a voice. A sliver of that safety from the dream crept back, only to be shoved away by a jolt of pain at the noise. “Shane?” the voice came again. Shane could only moan in response.

“I’ll be right back,” the voice told him. After another minute of excruciating pain and trying in vain to wet his mouth, the voice returned. “I’m going to sit you up.”

There were hands on his back and under his arm, pulling him up. His whole body was sore, but he held back the groan of pain in the back of his throat. He was starting to recognize the voice as he quickly forgot the dream. It had been in the farmhouse, hadn’t it? There had been a baby and sunlight. Warm, strong arms. Why was he thinking about arms? 

Something cool and smooth was pressed to Shane’s lips, and his first instinct was to pull away, but the gentle voice said, “Drink this. It’s just water.”

He drank, slowly. His mouth felt so numb and swollen that he could hardly tell if he was swallowing. As the seconds ticked by, the dream all but disappeared. The memory was gone like so much sweet smoke in the wind.

“Good,” said the voice as the glass was pulled away from him. There was a sound, like an alarm going off, an annoying, blaring sound from far away. The voice sighed and said, “Just a second.”

It took all of his mental faculties focusing on the noise for several seconds, but Shane recognized the sound as a baby crying. It was familiar, painfully so. He pushed the itch to remember away out of habit, not even trying to uncover it. 

Once the sound was identified, Shane concentrated on opening his eyes. He didn’t feel in danger, but there was something disconcerting about not having any idea where he was. 

With no small amount of difficulty, and a surprising amount of perseverance given the scalding pain going through his head, Shane fully opened his eyes. It was a struggle to keep them open. He forced himself to count to three, hold them open for three, and then rest again. This worked well enough for Shane to get a view of his surroundings, if only in short bursts.

He was in a double bed, covered by silken cream sheets and a comforter along with, judging by the cloud-like support of his head, an ungodly amount of pillows. Beside the bed was a metal pail, like the kind Marnie used for milking the cows, and a bedside table with a lamp and a bottle of pills resting on the corner. The rest of the room was simply decorated, with a simple dresser and a few paintings. There was a strange wooden sculpture on one side of the room, and other seemingly random items like vases and potted plants scattered around the room. It was eclectic, but clearly well cared for. 

The sensation of the airy sheet against his skin made Shane suddenly nauseous. He leaned over the side of the bed and wretched into the bucket. It seemed like the only thing in his stomach was bile and the few sips of water he’d managed to get down. It was a bitter concoction that seemed to coat his lips and undo all the hard work he’d done to hydrate himself.

When he lifted his head, you were standing before him, a hot washcloth in hand. A wave of humiliation hit him and he turned away from you. Your shoulders slumped, but you went forth anyway and wiped away the dribble of vomit by his lip.

“Where am I?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“The farmhouse. How much do you remember from last night?”

Shane forced himself to think back to the night before. He’d been watching for the farmer, like he did whenever it rained. You always seemed to come down there when it was thundering, looking scared. It worried him, seeing a pregnant woman wander around in the muddy dark alone. He wanted to join you, to ask what you were looking for, but he never did.

His head had been hurting, too. Really badly. It happened a lot when he tried to think too hard, and no amount of painkillers would dull the throb, so he’d taken to drinking it off. When he drank, it was like his thoughts got slower, and the pain subsided. Until he started thinking about you again.

There was something about you that kept his attention. It wasn’t anything he could name. There was nothing you’d done that he could point to and say _there, that’s why I’m feeling this way._

He didn’t remember everything, but he remembered enough. The cliff, his brain slamming up against his skull, burning in the rain. He remembered going to Harvey’s, and there was something else. Something that felt important, that he couldn’t hold onto long enough to understand.

“Too much,” he mumbled, pressing his palms to his burning eyes. A thought struck him like a bolt of lightning and his jolted to face you. “Does Jas know? Did she...?” _Did she see?_

You smiled sadly and took a seat beside the bed.

“No.” Shane slumped in the bed, cool relief settling back into his muscles.

“Thank God.”

“Here,” you held out a couple pills and a fresh glass of water to him. He eyes them suspiciously. “They’re painkillers. Try not to throw them up.”

Shane gratefully swallowed the pills. He could feel your gaze on him the entire time. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking. You almost looked sad.

“I should probably head over to Marnie’s soon,” you thought aloud. “Tell her where you are so she won’t worry.”

Shane scoffed and you narrowed your eyes.

“What’s funny?” you asked.

“She’s not going to be worried. I’m just dead weight for her. She’ll just assume I passed out somewhere and be glad she doesn’t have to deal with me.”

You rubbed your eyes, wishing you could take some of Shane’s painkillers. “You’re a dumb-ass,” was your only reply. You stood up. “I’ll be back in a half hour or less. Bathroom on the right, but try not to move around too much.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Shane dryly, closing his eyes and laying back on the pillow. He could swear he heard you chuckle as you left the room. The small sound made him inexplicably happy. It didn’t last for long. The happier he felt around you, the worse his headache got. 

_Weird._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick heads up, I'm in the week before finals and I'm going to be in my school's musical, so expect slow or completely stopped updates for a hot minute. I'll do what I can, but don't have great expectations
> 
> the good news is that I have plans for this story, and we're only a few chapters from the end. i don't want to leave this unfinished.


	10. Don't Get Weary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buhuh I swear the fic's not dead. I'm so close to the end it would be crazy to quit now. My money's on maybe two more chapters? I know loosely where I want it to go but school goes from about 8am-6pm with play rehearsals so we'll see how it goes

Marnie was anxiously manning the front desk when you came in. She was picking at her cuticles and bouncing on her feet as if the floor were covered in hot coals.

“Oh, Y/N. Have you been to the Saloon this morning?” she asked. “Was Shane there? He didn’t come back last night. I’m sure he’s fine, it’s just--”

“He’s fine, Marnie,” you cut her off, doing your best to give a reassuring smile. Her brow instantly relaxed.

“Oh, good.”

“He’s back at the farm house, resting up.” Before Marnie could question it, you explained the situation. “He was in a really bad way last night, Marnie. I mean, really bad. He’s fine now, but it wasn’t something he would’ve wanted Jas to see.”

“Oh, dear. When will he be coming home?”

You bit your lip. “I’m not sure. Soon, I think.”

“Thank you for coming by to tell me, Y/N. You’d better be getting back to him, right?”

She was trying to hide it, but you could see that Marnie was angry. She was twisted up with worried and frustration, just like you. You wished you could tell her that you understood, that you came just as close to heartbreak as she did when Shane did this to himself. You settled for giving her a quick, quiet hug. She was warm and smelled like hay. Without knowing why, the smell made you want to cry.

Shane was asleep when you made it back home. You took the hour or so of peace that you had left to give Reid his breakfast and cook something up for Shane. 

You woke him when it was ready, with a soft shake on the arm. 

“Five more minutes,” he grunted.

“Shane, wake up,” you whispered. “I’ve got your favorite.”

That stirred him. He opened his eyes, expecting a pizza and beer. He didn’t know how he could still want beer, feeling as awful as he did, but damn if it was all he could think about.

It was a cruel awakening when he discovered the bowl of soup being waved under his nose.

“What the Hell is that?”

“Veggie soup. Bottoms up.”

“Not hungry.”

“Just try it.”

“No.”

“You sound like my two year old. Just open your mouth.”

Begrudgingly, he did. With a smirk, you spooned a mouthful of broth into his mouth. At first he made a face, and then he relaxed. His eyes widened and he looked back to you, gaping.

“That’s what I thought,” you said. “Can you feed yourself now?”

Shane nodded and took the bowl from your hands. His fingers brushed yours for the barest second and you could have sworn you saw Shane flinch. 

You sat beside him as he slowly sipped the soup, avoiding the chunks of vegetable in favor of the broth. You couldn’t help a beam of pride. It was a special recipe that you’d gotten from Evelyn as a baby shower gift. It quickly became a house favorite, especially in the colder months. Shane always asked for it when he was feeling under the weather. 

“Gah, my head,” he groaned with a wince.

“Are you alright?” You leaned in to touch his arm on instinct before you caught yourself and pulled back.

“I’m fine. It’s just this headache.” He set the soup aside and cradled his head in his hands. The pain had been bad enough before, but something about this room, this house, that soup. The farmer. Something about all of it was like a million hot pokers to his brain. 

You bit your lip, thinking back to what Shane had said last night. 

_My head hurts all the time. There’s something wrong with me. There’s gotta be something wrong with me. With my head._

Were you doing this to him? He’d never had headaches like that before. You felt ill. 

“What about you? How are you holding up?” he asked, slowly recovering from the bout of pain and straightening himself, still wincing. 

“What?” was your startled response. His laugh was weak, the way it always was when he was hungover. 

“How are you doing? With Reid and, uh, the baby and everything.” He seemed uncomfortable with his own question.

“I’m fine. I should get you some more water.”

Shane’s brow furrowed. 

“You look tired. Are you...” He paused, unsure if it was his place to say. Shane couldn’t explain why he wanted to ask after you. He didn’t know where all this worry was coming from. It wasn’t like him. It had to be because you were taking care of him, right? That had to be it. You were frozen, reading his face. “Have you slept?”

“I will,” you assured him with a tired smile. 

“I just,” he stopped again. You were hovering in the doorway, holding your breath. “I don’t want you wearing yourself out trying to take care of me. I’m really not worth it.”

“Maybe not,” you shrugged. “But I’m going to anyway.”

“Why?” _Why would you bother saving me?_

You weren’t sure how to answer. He was looking at you now, watching you. You got that same feeling you had that night at the Saloon on his last birthday when you’d gifted him the pepper poppers. That feeling that he was seeing you for the first time. You thought for a long time about how to answer him. You couldn’t be honest, could you? You didn’t know what telling Shane the truth would do, but you weren’t ready to find out. 

“You remind me of someone I love.” Shane’s face fell.

“Your ex? Reid’s dad?”

“Yes.”

Shane shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t get that.”

“Get what?” You were instantly defensive, aware of the irony in defending Shane from himself. Then again, isn’t that what you’d always done?

“Why you’re still hung up on him,” he grumbled, taking back the soup just to have something to do with his hands. He kept his eyes cast down, avoiding your reaction. “Someone like you, you deserve so much better than some trash bag who doesn’t even stick around to help you when you need him.”

“I’m fine, Shane. I can take care of myself,” you said gently.

“But you shouldn’t have to!” he snapped. He quickly realized how heated he’d gotten and mumbled an apology. “Sorry, I just...I don’t know why I got so worked up just now.”

“It’s fine,” you said, suddenly distracted by a sharp kick in your abdomen. You winced and rested a hand on your stomach. You still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of your little human running around inside you. It had been the same with Reid. Luckily, they’d both been pretty still with few exceptions. Just your luck, one such exception had come up, now of all times.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Shane asked, uncharacteristically alert and full of concern. You smiled.

“I’m fine. Surprised is all.” Shane raised an eyebrow, begging an explanation. “She’s kicking,” you offered.

“She? It’s--she’s a girl, then?”

You shrugged. Shane’s eyes were wide. If his head was still hurting, he seemed to have forgotten for a moment. You decided to indulge yourself just this once and pretend that things were normal. Shane was just your sick husband and you were talking about your baby. The thought made you unreasonably happy and then unfathomably sad.

“I don’t know for sure,” you said. “I haven’t asked Harvey, I want to be surprised. It’s just a hunch, I guess.”

“If it is a girl, what are you going to name her?” Shane was leaning forward in his place in bed, enrapt in the conversation. It really was like nothing had changed. 

“Y/N, obviously,” you drawled.

It was a joke Shane liked to make when you were pregnant with Reid. “If it’s a girl, we should name her Y/N. If it’s a boy, also Y/N.”

The Shane of the present smiled that sideways smile that never failed to make you melt.

“Now that’s not half bad.”

You baby kicked again, but you were more ready this time. Shane noticed the shift of your hand the little flinch in your fingers and directed his gaze awkwardly to your stomach. You couldn’t help yourself. You asked, “Do you want to feel?”

Shane blushed deeply and shot his eyes in the opposite direction. “N-no, I wasn’t--Uh, I mean, I didn’t mean to--Damn it.”

Before you had time to think about it, you took Shane’s hand in yours and placed it against your stomach. The baby spun around in place, flexing her new limbs blindly. 

You watched Shane. He was in awe. His eyes were pointed to you, but his gaze was far away. It was as if he were seeing through you and straight to his daughter. He’d looked just like that when you’d had Reid. That same lost and amazed look. 

As if hearing his name from inside your head, Reid started crying in his bedroom. Shane seemed to remember where he was and with who and removed his hand. Almost immediately you missed the warmth of him. The firmness of his hand in yours. It was the closest you’d been to him when he wasn’t dead drunk in longer than you could remember. 

“You should probably get him,” Shane mumbled. You nodded, snapping back to reality.

As you left to tend to your son, Shane was left with the strangest feeling. It was unlike anything he could recall feeling before, but nevertheless he was sure he’d felt it. There was no memory attached to the familiar sensation, only a tingling in his spine and the near-constant ache in his mind. 

Something about that farmer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes...even if you edit something...it won't be very good
> 
>  
> 
> Sometimes...the reader can tell that you're scared of pregnant women...and uncomfortable writing them


	11. Never Want Once From The Cherry Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make up for my tragically basic story title with absolutely over the top chapter titles i mean it's like
> 
> Story Title: Date  
> Chapter Title: Only So Sweet A Rose Could Cut So Deep A Wound

Shane was well enough to leave the house by the end of the day, and you told him so. He almost didn’t want to leave, but it felt too strange and confusingly painful to stay. On his way out you gave him a Tupperware full of vegetable soup and the reminder that if he ever needed anything he could come back anytime.

Once he was gone you started to miss having him in the house. Of course it was good to get back to your chores and you were glad that Shane was well enough to get on by himself, but his presence brought a certain aura to the house that became achingly absent whenever he wasn’t there. For that one day, the farm felt like home again for the first time in months. 

As he was heading out of the door with the soup, you stopped him. 

“Please take care of yourself, Shane,” you told him. “Give that doctor in Zuzu City a call.”

“Yeah, I will,” he said, and you actually believed him. Then again, you reminded yourself, you’d believed him last time.

In spite of that, you found yourself talking to Shane more and more. You would see him on the way to work and give him a wave, which would start a conversation. You would ask how he was doing and he would give you an honest answer, and then he would ask you and you would answer. You were even honest with him, too. As honest as you could be.

“How have you been?” he asked. The air had the chill of autumn weaving through it. It threatened to blow his Joja cap off of his head and forced him to hold it in place with one hand, a dorky smile playing on his lips. 

“Not too bad. My back hurts like hell, but someone’s gotta harvest the pumpkins.” 

The two of you smiled at each other. You felt like some love-drunk kid waiting for their crush to ask them to prom. The voice that scolded you for thinking that was had become steadily quieter the more time you spent with Shane. It was like falling in love with him all over again.

“You know, Y/N, if you ever need any help with the chickens or with Reid or anything, you can count on me,” Shane said seriously, shifting the jovial tone. It wasn’t his first time offering help, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you turned him down. Although you were spending more time with Shane now, you had your reservations about letting him all the way back into your life. You didn’t know how the spell would hold up to Shane being constantly surrounded by the past that you sacrificed so much for him to forget. 

But he was so sincere. Shane hadn’t said it--he didn’t need to--but he’d come here after work instead of going to the Saloon. He was clearly putting in a lot of effort, and he was clean, and you’d being lying if you said you didn’t want the help and the company anyway.

“Okay,” you said. Shane’s eyebrows shot up, not expecting an affirmative answer. “I have to bring this mushroom to Demetrius for some experiment he’s doing. Can you watch Reid? I won’t be gone more than an hour.”

Setting his jaw like a soldier on a mission, Shane nodded. He even gave a small mock-salute to make you smile. It worked, and he headed inside. You took a deep breath, assuring yourself that fifty minutes alone with Reid wasn’t the end of the world. This might actually work. If Shane could be around you and Reid without remembering, maybe he could be a part of your and your son’s life after all. 

You decided to take your time on your way to Demetrius’ and back, enjoying not having to worry about Reid while you were gone. When Shane was sober, he was great with kids. Even before you’d had Reid, Shane had practically raised Jas. Maybe you could have Shane babysit more often when the baby was born.

It didn’t help shake your from your daydreaming when you walked in on Shane playing with Reid. The two of them were sitting on the floor together, colored blocks strewn in a halo all around them. Shane was holding up a red block in front of Reid, trying to get him to say red.

“Wed,” Reid slurred, mouth struggling around the hard sound. 

“You’re real close, kid. Red. Rrrrrrrr.”

“Rrrrrrrr.”

“Yeah. Rrrrred.”

“Rrred!”

“Nice job, kid.” Shane beamed with pride and ruffled Reid’s hair. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“He sure is,” you cut in, making your position in the doorway known. Shane turned and smiled at you, and then turned back to Reid.

“Can you say it one more time, bud? Can you say red?”

“Red!” Reid barked, giddy off the success of the word. “Red red red!”

Shane turned to you with the widest shit-eating grin, and you’d never wanted to kiss him so badly in your life. 

“I better get going,” Shane said to you. Then, to Reid, “I’ll see around, kid.”

You walked Shane to the porch, overjoyed that it had gone so well. You thought that you’d lost the chance for Reid to grow up with his father, but maybe there was really a way for all of this to work out. Every time Shane looked at you with that casually happy look on his face, the little flower of hope in your chest unfurled another petal. 

Now, with the sun setting on a beautiful fall day, he was looking at you just like that. You had a suspicion that you looked the same way.

“Good kid you got there. That idiot dad of his is really missing out,” he said. You were happy that he seemed so comfortable with you now. You hadn’t realized how much you hated him being so and unfamiliar and cold to you until you had your closeness back.

“Thanks.” Then, after a moment. “I like you much better sober.”

Shane laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

You stayed like that, in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Your huge stomach was bothering your back and your feet and you wanted desperately to sit down, but you didn’t want the moment to end. You could’ve stood there next to him until the world ended. 

“So, uh,” Shane stumbled on his words, blushing. “I got two tickets to the tunnelers game tomorrow night. I don’t know if you can make it with the fall harvest and Reid and everything, but--”

“I’d love to,” you said before you had time to consider the consequences. Shane’s smile got wider and his blush deeper--feats that you hadn’t thought possible. Even though you knew him better than you knew anyone, it was like your first date all over again. Finally breaking through the hard shell of this man that you were desperate to keep alive. 

“I’ll meet you by the bus at five tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you there.”

It was only as Shane’s retreating form disappeared into the trees that you started to question what you’d just done. You knew what happened on this date, and you knew what came after it. After all, you’d done it once before. You couldn’t let that happen, right? Not when everything was just starting to come together.

But you’d already said yes. You couldn’t back out now, it would break Shane’s heart. It would break yours too, if you were honest. 

You were an adult. You could make it through a gridball game without a kiss. It was for the best. You would go with Shane and the two of you would have a nice time as friends, and then you would go home as friends. Nothing more. 

For the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear we're so close boys. I just gotta figure out a couple details, but I know where this is going
> 
> also, can you tell that i've never interacted with a human child in my life?


	12. Find Me When I Was Pure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall gave me two (very patient) months to write this and I didn't even edit it. shaking my damn head. at least we got an edgy title in ;[

Everything was a mistake. This shirt was a mistake, brushing his hair like this was a mistake, waking up this morning was a mistake, but most of all, Shane inviting the farmer to go to the goddamn Tunnelers game was a mistake.

A Tunnelers game. That was his best idea for a first date. How could he even ask them on a date in the first place? How could he even be sure that it was a date in the first place? Why was he fussing over his hoodie and his hair when they were clearly still hung up on their ex? What was he thinking?

It was too late to turn back now. If the farmer hadn’t come to their senses and realized how worthless Shane was by now, they would probably be on their way to the bus stop at that very minute. He had to go.

Shane had to alternate between speed walking and jogging to get to the bus on time, which made him as sweaty as he was mortified. He had nearly ten gut-churning minutes before the farmer rounded the bend to the bus stop. If Shane didn’t know better, he would’ve taken their wringing hands and raw nails as signs of nerves, but he did know better. 

“Hey, there you are!” he said, cursing the quiver in his voice. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Of course,” you said with an easy smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

From behind him on the bus, Pam called, “Hey, lovebirds, we’re rolling out! All aboard!”

Shane blushed deep and notably ignored the nickname. “We should get going.”

“Then let’s go.” 

You and Shane exchanged ruddy smiles like nervous highschoolers and boarded the bus. 

The bus was mostly empty, only Gus and Alex were making the trip with you. Alex had a set of headphones over his ears, and Gus was totally absorbed in the business section of the paper, giving you and Shane functionally all the privacy of an empty bus.

You talked about a lot of things on the half-hour ride to Zuzu City stadium. You told Shane about the secret to your pepper poppers--which was homegrown peppers and fresh cheese. He didn’t believe you and insisted there had to be something else. You insisted that if he’d ever tried to make his own chest he would know that is was secret enough.

Shane told you about Jaz and her latest obsession. You’d already heard hours worth about it, just like Shane had, but you liked to hear him talk about Jaz. She always managed to make him smile. By the time you’d arrived at the ballpark, you’d forgotten that your journey had a destination at all. 

You and Shane settled in with hotdogs and sodas to watch the game. You had surprisingly good seats, but Shane wouldn’t reveal how he’d gotten them.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to please go dutch on the hotdog,” he said, even thought he’d paid for your hotdog.

You spent most of the game mindlessly cheering for Shane’s team, overwhelmed by the rush whenever they scored. You didn’t particularly care for sports, but being married to Shane forced you to become invested in the Tunnelers. 

Eventually there was a lull in the action of the game and Shane took the opportunity to speak. His tone was timid, almost shy. You remembered this.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to say,” You looked up from the game. “Thanks for sticking with me through everything. My anxiety, depression. Thank you. And thank you for letting me be a part of Reid’s life. I don’t know what it is, but when I’m with you two I feel a little more complete. You know? Like everything else is crooked and you guys are straight. So, yeah. Thanks.”

He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. You couldn’t help but smile. You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure, Shane. I’m happy to have you.”

Shane beamed. He had the same giddy smile he’d had on this day almost two years ago. The same smile he’d had on your wedding day. The same smile you fell in love with, over and over and over again. 

A sudden roar from the crowd pulled you and Shane out of your moment as the Tunnelers score. Shane leapt out of his seat, knocking his cola of its holder and sending the liquid flying on the stands. In his ecstasy he didn’t even notice.

“GOAL!” he cheered. “YES! YES! SCORE!”

You didn’t cheer. You were too busy watching him. He was practically glowing in the light of the stadium. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him look this alive. You didn’t want to miss a minute. 

He looked back to you with a wild smile and the pit dropped in your stomach. How could you have forgotten? Why did you think that anything good came for free? Before you can stop him, Shane swooped down, cupped his hands on your face, and kissed you. On instinct, you kissed him back, the rhythm of him so familiar that you started to ache. 

Shane jerked back with a sharp gasp like he’d been punched. 

“Shane!” 

You reached for him as he grabbed his head and let out a cry. His eyes were wide open, mouth moving, but he wasn’t letting out any sound. It didn’t look like he can see you at all. 

“Shane, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

People were turning to look at you now. The two of you, kneeled on the ground, one pregnant and concerned and the other clutching his head and stunned by pain, were causing quite a scene. There were tears welling in your eyes. The same knot of fear from when you found him on cliff was back, and you practically felt everything falling away from under you. 

Shane’s muscles relaxed for just a moment and his eyes found yours, wide and horrified and confused. Your heart stopped. 

“Y/N,” he choked out. “What have you done?”

And that’s when the contractions started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unk home stretch home stretch gamers
> 
> oh my god the shifting perspective in this chapter though lol. i swear i'll go back and edit it in a minute


End file.
